Balancing Act
by TutorGirlml
Summary: A oneshot on what I think Prentiss will do with the choice she faced at the end of season 2


Hey all, it's been a hectic month since I've last gotten the chance to finish and post any fan fiction. I hope you'll still be willing to read this quick little one-shot. I think the response I got to "Don't Take Me For Granted" may have spoiled me!  Anyway. I'm working on a sequel, or continuation, or something in the same vein of that, which I'll hopefully get started posting soon. Until then, just a little piece based on my own wonderings on how Prentiss will respond to the choice she was presented with in the Season 2 finale. 

And of course, none of these characters or the show itself belong to me or have anything to do with me, I'm just entertaining myself.

Balancing Act 

By: TutorGirlml

She sat dumbfounded for a moment that seemed to take on a life of its own and stretch eternally. Emily Prentiss wasn't a person often shocked or caught off-guard; life as an ambassador's daughter had taught her at an early age to be prepared for almost anything and that even the most unexpected events could easily occur. But this…she couldn't quite believe. Her mouth had to have hung open in surprise for a full thirty seconds before she managed to snap it closed, blinking as she tried to absorb the news she'd just been given.

Agent Strauss watched her expectantly, fully assuming the ambitious young woman would agree to whatever would allow her to keep the position she'd worked so hard for. There wasn't a doubt that Agent Prentiss had felt the odd man out on Aaron Hotchner's BAU team, and Strauss was counting on the fact that the fierce loyalty to him the rest of his team would have had wouldn't trouble the team's newest member. She was quite sure that Emily Prentiss cared much more about being _on _the BAU team than about who led it. Erin Strauss was a woman used to being obeyed, and she assumed the ambassador's daughter was well-versed enough in politics to know not to bite the hand that fed her. It seemed a given that she was desperate enough to advance her own career not to sacrifice it foolishly for someone else's.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Emily started, her eyes suddenly shifting curiously, almost hopefully, as if searching for the hidden camera or the person who was going to jump out and tell her this had all been a joke. "I think I must have misunderstood you…"

"You most certainly did not," Strauss answered crisply, her tone firm and unyielding as she cut the younger woman off. "Your team is in trouble. SSA Hotchner will be removed from his post, and you can help me or go down with the rest of them." She folded her hands on her desk and studied Emily Prentiss coolly, awaiting an answer.

Once again, Emily had to forcibly stop herself from gaping like a fish out of water and school her features into the impassive, collected expression she'd perfected by the time she was a teenager. It had come in handy many times at her parent's never-ending social functions – her uncanny ability to glad hand with the best of them while in her mind she was secretly recalling the latest Vonnegut novel she'd been reading or something else much more interesting to stave off the boredom. When she'd told Hotch offhandedly in Georgia that she compartmentalized better than most people, she realized how true the statement was.

But now the mask's success seemed almost a matter of life and death. Her sharp mind served her well as she suddenly decided on the best course to take for this situation, and went for it. Trying to look nothing more than mildly curious, she leaned very slightly forward toward Strauss' desk, asking, "And just what would you have me do?"

Strauss smiling, leaning back in her chair, thoroughly pleased with herself. She'd been right about Ambassador Prentiss' grasping daughter. This was just the tool she had needed for some time now. There was now a chink in Aaron Hotchner's armor and he didn't even realize it. He'd accepted the key to his career's destruction right onto his own team.

Emily was forcing herself to breathe evenly and maintain steady eye contact. This woman could probably smell her fear, or at least sense her nervousness if she didn't play this perfectly. She couldn't flinch, or look away, or seem to eager, or she'd give herself away. Though she felt as if her heartrate rocketed higher by the second at the dangerous dance she'd just begun. A balancing act like this had to be carried out perfecting or she could slip off the fine line she'd been walking and be caught at it.

"Well, for starters, we'll find moments to bring up the failings and unnecessary risks his team has chalked up this year. Agent Hotchner is slipping, he's losing control over the team he's supposed to command. We simply need to continue to make it obvious to the right people, until it becomes fact even they can't deny. That part of it will be more in my hands, of course. What you need to do is tangle up communications. You'll fail to deliver messages or commands Hotch gives to the rest of the team, and then make it clear that he failed to give them at all. He's already proven himself negligent, and it shouldn't take much more to make him look so. You're just speeding along the process for all those well-placed friends of his that don't want to see reason as I've been trying to give it to them." She chuckled, her face suddenly resembling a dangerous incarnation of a Cheshire cat grin. "With all that's gone wrong on your team in the past year, I frankly can't see why this hasn't already been taken care of. It shouldn't be too hard to finally have this problem solved."

Prentiss tried to sound as though she were just trying to check for stumbling blocks in the plan, rather than arguing her boss' case, which she knew in truth she was. She felt bile rising in her throat at the thought at even pretending to go along with any of the things Strauss had just said. And she had her hands nearly clenched on the arm of her chair to keep from smacking the self-satisfied grin right off the older woman's smug face. "How do we prove these new instances we create are any different than the ones they've already overlooked? Especially if they don't necessarily even happen?"

"Well, Emily, that's where your part really comes in. With your help, we're going to make these 'slips' appear so frequent and blatant that my superiors are finally going to see what you and I already know. Agent Hotchner is no longer fit to be in charge at the BAU."

"I see," Emily responded, giving Strauss what she could only hope was a conspiratorial smile and nodding her agreement, while continuing to meet her icy, penetrating stare and not give away her true thoughts on this whole despicable mess. She felt dirty even pretending to take part in it.

"Well, then, since I've got you on board," Strauss said pleasantly, as though the voice of steel she'd been employing previously had never been used, "I'll let you know soon, exactly how we'll proceed." And with that, she stood to show her the door.

Before she knew it, Emily had been ushered back out of the office and had the door shut behind her; her presence no longer needed. Just as Strauss wanted Hotch gone and had no further use for him, Emily knew that anyone could be just as expendable once she'd gotten what she needed from them.

Finally, she allowed herself to let out a tensely held breath, and she squared her shoulders, mind already speeding through what she had to do next. She headed off down the hallway, into the elevators, and back to her own floor.

Grateful to see that though the lights were dimmed in most of the offices on the BAU's floor and the bullpen was deserted, there was still a light burning industriously in Hotch's office. She could see his commanding, ramrod-straight silhouette still there in the chair at his desk, resolutely refusing to leave for the night until everything was in order and completed correctly. And they were trying to oust this man from the Bureau? It was insane.

She had to speak with him right now at this. She couldn't bear to go home and feel for even one night like she was truly in league with Strauss.

Prentiss crossed the distance from the elevators to her supervisor's office nervously, trying to assure herself that the hardest decision had already been made. She'd decided to play this game; to try to dupe Strauss and stand up for her team. All she had to do now was warn Hotch of what she would be doing, let him in on the plan and let him know he'd better watch his back.

He wasn't going to approve of the way she'd chosen to play this. But she had been backed into a corner too quickly to come up with any other viable option. She simply had to believe that he would understand and help her pull this off. She couldn't really see any other way to protect them all from this hostile takeover.

And then she was there. The walk across the bullpen and up to his office had never seemed so short. Brushing a brisk, fidgety hand through her black hair and tucking it behind her ear, she wondered how she'd reached his door already. Just what was she going to say?

Knowing she couldn't put it off any longer, and honestly wanting the whole confession over with, she stepped into the light off the open doorway and rapped her knuckles twice against the door frame, announcing her presence.

Hotch looked up, nodded to her shortly, and then motioned her in. "Can I help you?" he asked curiously, then seeing the time on the clock that rested on his desk top, he studied her more closely. "What are you still doing here?"

Emily steeped in, but didn't allow herself to take a seat before his desk as she normally would have. For a painful moment, it flickered through her mind that she didn't deserve to, then she felt herself resolve harden as she told herself she was earning that right with what she intended to do.

"I got called to a meeting," she offered, forcing herself to hold his steady gaze, conveying her message as clearly as she could. "With Agent Strauss. And there's something I need to tell you, sir."

His keen eyes seemed to take in her troubled, guilt-ridden expression and understand and accept the nature of what she was about to tell him. She drew in her first full breath since she'd been called to Strauss' office, and realized belatedly that he already knew what was brewing around him, and between them they'd figure out what she was going to do.

Hotch stood, clasping her shoulder for just a second, before directing her to sit down with a small, reassuring smile. Then, as he moved past her, he said simply. "Before you start, maybe we ought to shut the door…"


End file.
